


although i am broken, my heart is untamed still

by listentotheink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Louis is sunshine, M/M, and harry needs him, story of my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listentotheink/pseuds/listentotheink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes the rain, generally. He likes walking in it, likes the feeling as the wet drops hit his hair, matting down the untamable curls that sit atop his head. He likes driving in it, too. Likes watching the rivers of water race down his windows, likes the gentle swoosh, thud, swoosh, thud, of the wiper blades as they do their never ending dance. Swiping away the water as it’s replaced by more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	although i am broken, my heart is untamed still

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been listening to Story of My Life on repeat, and it made me feel a lot of things and it made me have a lot of flashes in my head, and this is what came out. I really hope you guys like it. This is literally an outpouring of feelings.

_seems when i die, these words will be written on my stone._

 

Harry likes the rain, generally. He likes walking in it, likes the feeling as the wet drops hit his hair, matting down the untamable curls that sit atop his head. He likes driving in it, too. Likes watching the rivers of water race down his windows, likes the gentle swoosh, thud, swoosh, thud, of the wiper blades as they do their never ending dance. Swiping away the water as it’s replaced by more. He wonders, sometimes, when he’s caught up in the glow of his high beams on the wet pavement, what it was like before wipers were invented. He supposes that someone had to lean out the window and wipe it away with their hands.

He lets out a small laugh at that because, if the opportunity was presented, Louis would jump at it. Lean out the window like a dog, swipe away the water while it soaked him through to the skin.Harry would probably just laugh, tell him he’d get sick and Louis would slip back inside, close the window and shiver as he turned up the heat.

The traffic light ahead changes to yellow and with it comes a burst of golden summer sun as it sinks down across a field. And Harry knows that it can’t last. That someday the sun is going to explode and probably turn into a black hole, but for now. In this moment. This moment with the beautiful boy who’s climbed out the window, balanced on the frame and is shouting in pure elation as Harry speeds down a back road. He feels like it could go on forever. He wants it to go on forever, wants to remember this. Wants to remember the boy called Louis who’s the friend of a friend that Harry had a greed to go camping with. Who’s got him laughing within minutes and smiling to himself as the song on the radio changes from a Demi Lovato number to something so acoustic and perfect for driving, that Harry can’t help but think that he’s in a film.

He’s got one hand on the wheel, one on the gearshift, and when he slips into second, it’s the sound of a screen door slamming and a quiet “Hey, Curly” as Louis steps out onto the porch. The sun is setting, Harry’s Range Rover is running, and his hand is trembling around the single yellow rose he had brought. It’s too early for red. Plus, yellow is friendship and sunshine and since Louis reminds him of sunshine it seems appropriate.

It’s gentle touches and sneaky glances from both parties after Harry opens the passenger door for Louis. He’s wearing Burberry, and. Well. Harry wonders if he did it on purpose. Harry’s got a weakness for Burberry.

The rain lets up and it’s soft kisses and the press of lips on lips as they stand toe to toe on Louis’ porch, Harry leaning down just a touch, both unsure about what to do with their hands. But knowing that it was something that they wanted to keep happening. Something that felt real and right and addicting and so much like coming home. That it’s like a mug of hot tea on a cold day while you’re under a blanket safe and warm and comforting and something you want to return to.

Harry decides that he wants to go left, down a back road and into the woods, and when he flips his blinker it’s the tiny keens and little gasps leaving Louis’ mouth. The beautiful sounds he makes as Harry presses a finger deep inside him and crooking it up into his prostate while licking around his rim. It’s the hot gasp against Harry’s ear as Harry buries himself deep inside warm, tight, heat. It’s the bruises Harry wakes up with, each purple spot punctuating his pale skin. It’s the feeling of intimacy that Harry’s been lacking, the feeling of not knowing where he ends and Louis begins. It’s the quiet “I love you” Louis presses into the base of his throat.

It’s the fact that they’ve made it six months, even though Louis is a two and a half hour train ride away at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts, It’s a big deal. And it’s made bigger when Harry finds a spare key to Louis’ flat in the pocket of his trousers the next morning.

As he turns the car and his feet shift, he hears cardboard boxes scraping across the floor of Louis’ flat as he sets a picture of the two of them on an endtable. And what’s Louis’ is Harry’s and what’s Harry’s is Louis and their lives entwine so quickly and so easily it’s almost scary. If it hadn’t felt natural, it would have been.

His brakes squeak gently and it’s the sound of a dish breaking as it slips out of Harry’s hand while he stares at the already overflowing sink. It’s the sound of his voice when he speaks to Louis, telling him to pull his weight around the flat instead of making Harry do everything on his own. Instead of making Harry the housewife, and before he can think about it, he’s asking if that’s why Louis asked him to move in. So he could be a maid, and it takes all of three seconds for Louis to cross the room and press gentle kisses all over his face. He assures him that he didn’t want Harry to move in and be maid, that he promises to help more, He doesn’t help. But Harry honestly doesn’t mind it anymore.

It’s two years tonight, and Harry isn’t home. He’s driving in the rain, caught up in the glow of headlights on the pavement, caught up in better moments than the one he just came from. This is the biggest fight that he and Louis had ever been in, and it’s because Louis had been out all day, instead of home with Harry having a lie in like he had promised. Hadn’t even told Harry he was going, and came prancing in at half ten with lipstick painted onto his cheek. He had a silly smile on his face that implied that he had completely forgotten what today was, and Harry’s heart was shattered.

They fight. and Harry breaks a dish, throws it across the kitchen because he’s so angry and sad and hurt and confused that he just doesn’t know what to do. He screams at the top of his voice until his throat is raw, and Louis doesn’t hold back, either. Shouts at him about having trust and faith and that’s when the frustration peaks and he leaves the kitchen, picks up his keys from the table in the hall.

“Where are you going?” Louis asks, like he doesn’t give a fuck that Harry is genuinely upset about this. He’s got his arms folded across his chest and the bright pink lipstick on his cheek seems to mock Harry in the dull light of the hall.

“A drive.”

“Will you be back?”

The lights hit Harry’s eyes and they’re blinding. He lifts his arm to shield them as he locks up his brakes, puts the pedal to the floor. The scream of metal colliding with metal is the sound of a door slamming, and Harry’s head pitches forward, snaps back after it collides with the steering wheel, and everything stops.

On the seat next to him, his phone lights up.

 

My Sunshine:

I love you. I’m sorry. Please come home.


End file.
